Chapter 65: The Watcher Out of Time
This story hour is from "The Watcher Out of Time" by Clifton Ganyard. You can read more about Delta Green at
http://www.delta-green.com. Please note: This story hour contains spoilers!
Our cast of characters includes:
• Game Master: Michael Tresca (
http://michael.tresca.net)
• Joseph “Archive” Fontaine (Dedicated Hero/Acolyte) played by Joe Lalumia
• Jim “Jim-Bean” Baxter (Charismatic Hero/Telepath) played by Jeremy Ortiz (
http://jeremyrobertortiz.blogspot.com)
• Kurtis “Hammer” Grange (Fast/Dedicated Hero/Gunslinger) played by George Webster
I enjoyed the idea of a time travel scenario where the characters get the chance to learn a story by playing it backwards, a bit like Memento. In truth, this game didn’t play out that way. Part of the challenge is that the action obscures the details; part of it is that we were pressed for time, and part of the problem was that the characters didn’t initially understand they were in a time loop.
But then, when you’ve got time travel you can do all sorts of awful things to characters. I even brought back a villain from the very first scenario the agents played in. I modeled these scenarios after Hellraiser (the Crystallizer of Dreams is a lot like Lemarchand’s Box) and in that regard at least the Tomb-Herd – animated stone crab-people in hooded robes – were creepy enough for the players to comment on it.
Defining Moment: In the second time jump, a lot of agents die.
Relevant Media
Ramsey Campbell's Goatswood and Less Pleasant Places:
http://rpg.drivethrustuff.com/product_info.php?products_id=24385&it=1&affiliate_id=34014
Prologue
“You’ll see me there,” said the cat and vanished.
Alice was not much surprised at this, she was getting
so well used to queer things happening.
-Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
BRICHESTER, ENGLAND—At dinner, Derik VanVon proposed a toast. Fiona wasn't present and neither was Guppy. Mrs. Jenkins set the table.
"I recognize that circumstances have been highly irregular due to the…" he stumbled over the words, "events, but I believe we have enough shooting footage to proceed with the film despite my colleague's unfortunate demise. All we need is to film a climactic ending, something permanent, final, that will do justice to the events that have unfolded--"
Fiona burst in, swearing. "Ya know, I was wonderin' what happened tah Guppy. So I checked in on him. Funny thing." She tossed a laptop onto the dinner table, spraying dinnerware in all directions. "And that's when I noticed this."
Video footage played on the laptop's screen. It looked like a relatively mundane shot of the manor from a distance.
"I don't see—" blustered VanVon.
"Oh but I think ya do. Ya see, I thought there was something odd about th' wireless feed, which is why I checked with Guppy. Only Guppy's missing. And that's when I remembered…the security feeds aren't in color." She tapped a key and the black-and-white security feed enlarged next to the color video. Fiona whirled on VanVon. "These ain't our cameras. They're his."
VanVon swallowed hard.
Hammer squinted at the screens. "The feeds don't match up."
"Please…you don't understand!" sputtered vanVon. "My wife left me since I've been in prison…my family won't speak to me. It's very, very important to me that this movie gets made. Please, this will be my greatest triumph! It will redeem me!"
"Guppy's got this place wound tight. He's got security all over th' place – heck, he's got it wired ta blow after that last attack. And ye expected ta place a camera without us noticin'?"
VanVon looked around. "Where's Albert?"
"Don't try ta change the subject…"
"I don't know dear," says Mrs. Jenkins, frowning. "He went out to check the perimeter…"
For a split second the moonlight streaming in from the window winked out as it was blocked by something large.
"GET DOWN!" shouted Jim-Bean.
Hammer hurled the large dinner table over with a mighty kick just before machinegun fire exploded the windows. Splinters puffed out of the heavy oak table, but not everyone ducked behind it in time.
"PISCES. They found us," Jim-Bean supposed it was just a matter of time.
"We've got to get out of here, right now!" shouted Hammer, scanning the exits.
The silhouettes of men on zip lines shadowed the broken windows. Archive whispered a phrase and flicked one palm open wide.
A solid brick wall built itself up at high speed across the windows. There were muffled grunts and shouts of surprise as the intruders struck solid rock. "That'll hold them for a little while."
"Back door!"
Hammer led them out of the living room toward the kitchen. Instinct only saved his life as the whistle of a blade nearly tore his head off. As it was he ducked just in time, the blade grazing his scalp and embedding itself in the doorway.
Hammer unleashed his Glock's in Agent Raphael's face. The PISCES agent pirouetted away, blodding spitting through the air.
"He came out of nowhere?" panted Hammer.
"There's more," said Jim-Bean. "He was using a HOG."
"HOG?" asked Hammer, trying to cover the room against assailants he couldn't see.
"Hand of Glory," said Archive. "It renders the user completely undetectable."
Canisters of tear gas thumped into the room from the kitchen exit.
Hammer retaliated by firing wildly into the gas. He turned the sinks on in the kitchen and tossed wet cloths to the others. "Keep this over your nose!"
The gunfire stopped, interrupted by surprised shrieks.
Out of the gas strode Thredra, dressed in her pale human-leather studded with vampire fangs. Bats swooped in behind her and transformed into beautiful, pale-skinned men and women dressed in red armor. They all struck model-like poses behind her, a veritable gothic movie poster.
“My troops are on their way,” said Thredra. “But we don’t have much time. I spotted several more PISCES choppers on the way over. You need to get out of here, now.”
The danger momentarily averted, Jim-Bean's picked up the headset of the body of Agent Raphael. "This is Agent Raphael. I need a pick up." His gaze became unfocused for a moment. "I just hijacked us a helicopter. It'll be waiting for us outside."
Part 1 – NIGHTMARE GREEN
Mrs. Jenkins, who managed to snatch a laptop in the confusion, tapped a key. "Someone sold us out. Here's the real security feed."
On the feed, Andy Cook was smiling and conversing with Albert. He whispered a phrase and Albert's eyes glazed over. He shuffled dutifully behind Albert out of view of the camera.
"I'm initiating the NIGHTMARE GREEN protocol." She looked around sadly. "I'll miss this place." Her features darkened. "But I'll be damned if I let those PISCES bastards take it from us." She looked away and tapped another key. A dour-sounding beep responds. Mrs. Jenkins opened her eyes and tapped the key a few more times. More negative beeps. "It's not working! They're blocking the feed!" She sets her chin. "It'll have to be manually activated. There's no countdown that way. I'll do it—"
VanVon, bleeding from multiple wounds, put one hand on her shoulder. "No. I'll do it."
"You can't!" said Mrs. Jenkins. "I would never ask—"
“As I said before, I don’t have anything left.” He smiled, a little sad. “But you have to go find Alfred." When he notices her hesitation, he resorted to pleading. “Please. Let me go out with dignity.”
"Fine." She took out a jump drive from a chain around her neck, stuck it into the laptop, then handed it to VanVon. "Insert this into the computer that runs the heating system downstairs. You'll see the USB slot. Good luck."
VanVon nodded and ran back into the dining room towards the cellar steps.
Jim-Bean led the charge towards the helicopter. The mind-controlled pilot landed it a few hundred feet away from the mansion on the front lawn.
"See?" Jim-Bean shot Thredra a smirk. "Thanks for your help but I think we have it all under-"
The helicopter exploded as a missile struck it from another chopper hovering overhead.
Jim-Bean sighed. "They're on to us." He thrust one arm out and a rocket launcher materialized, nestled on his shoulder. He dug in and pulled the trigger.
The missile hit the second helicopter dead-on. It whirled past them in a ball of flames.
"Let's go!" shouted Thredra, waving them on through the smoke and wreckage.
They passed over a dozens of corpses at the ready, staring at Thredra expectantly. Cornwell’s wife Kate was there, a wicked bloody grin still plastered over her slack lips. Some of the Brichester kids with bullet holes in their foreheads stood beside her. Snow Dog, his groin coiling with maggots, looked freshly unburied. Burst worst of all was Christine Dee, whose festering wounds were a boiling mass of filth and vermin.
They silently passed the undead troops, like captains leaving doomed men to their sinking ship. Not one of them uttered a protest.
At a command from Thredra they shambled into action. Spotlights flared from helicopters overhead, no longer concerned about stealth. The net was closing.
"The Phantom's in the barn!" Hammer jogged towards the barn.
Hammer hopped into the front seat of the Phantom, souped up from Guppy’s modifications. There was quite a lot of sophisticated equipment in there too – enough for Guppy to escape, which raised the question as what happened to him.
Jim-Bean jumped in the passenger side. Mrs. Jenkins, Fiona, and Archive piled into the back. The Phantom roared to life and blasted through the barn doors.
As they rocketed down the dirt road, there was an explosion further ahead. A 4x4 was off to their right, flipped upside down and roaring with flames from its exploded gas tank. They caught a glimpse of a large humanoid form slamming an APC to and fro. It spun and twirled overhead -- rotating several times on its axis and close enough to hear the men’s screams inside – before it smashed down in the woods on the other side of the road.
And then were free. The video screens in the Phantom crackled to life, picking up the wireless signal that Guppy installed. They were almost out of range as they drove. VanVon's face, bloodied and covered with dirt, filled the screen.
Derik VanVon, blood speckling his teeth, smiled into the grainy webcam lens.
“Looks like this laptop has a camera,” he slicked back his comb over. “My name is Derik VanVon and I was once a famous movie producer. Up until now I’ve been working on a film titled Silent Scream, because I thought it would redeem me.” Gunfire rattles outside and VanVon looks over his shoulder. “But I realize now that was foolishness. If I’ve learned anything in prison, it’s that life is what you make of it. I’ve been given a second chance. And I’m not going to waste it.”
He tilted the laptop. Visible on camera him near was what looked unmistakably like a bomb. A yellow and black switch covered by a glass case was nearby. VanVon flipped it open.
“There’s no value in making movies anymore. Reality is the movie. And this one, I hope, will go viral.”
A muffled roar rocked the room – a nearby explosion.
“So here’s something for you kids to share on YouTube. PISCES, an elite government organization dedicated to defending Britain against supernatural attacks, has been infiltrated by brain spiders.” He taps a key and flashes of curious-looking dragonflies with far too many joints to their limbs slide by. “They can flit from brain to brain, taking you over, manipulating you. They have been here for decades, and they have been playing you all for fools. They are not defending you. They are holding your country hostage.”
VanVon leaned heavily on one arm, wiping the sweat from his brow. Blood was dripping down one of his arms.
He pressed another key, and pictures of Hammer, Guppy, Jim-Bean, Caprice, and Archive appeared on the screen. “Hear me, PISCES. These men are your worst nightmare. They are officially dead. They have nothing to lose. ”
A soldier was silhouetted in the stairwell behind him, automatic weapon drawn.
“And they’re coming from you.” VanVon smiled through blood-soaked teeth and pressed the button.
The feed went blank. The wireless signal cut out as they drove out of range.
A terrific explosion engulfed the Manora a second later. The shockwave shuddered through the trees and shook the Phantom, but they were far enough away to avoid the full force of the impact. Two helicopters whirled crazily out of control behind them, their crash punctuated by fireballs in the darkness.
"Now what?" asked Archive.
"I knew I shouldn't have trusted that Andy @$$hole," snarled Jimmy. "Let's pay him a visit."
Part 2 – Gnome-body Knows…
The Cook residence was a small house typical of the Severnford area. There was nothing overtly unusual about the Cook residence, except for the unearthly quiet that hung over the place. An odor lingered in the air, familiar to Hammer: the scent of a recently fired gun. Another odor hung in the air--the scent of blood.
A streak of white-blue lightning illuminated the room for a split second, illuminating a crumpled figure on the floor in a pool of dark liquid.
Archive checked his pulse. "It's Cook. He's still alive. Barely."
Andy was on his back on the floor, a pool of blood at his head. He still held a flintlock pistol in his hand.
Jim-Bean touched the floor and focused...
As the sky darkened and the full moon rose above the horizon, three ugly gnomes began to stir. Andy commanded small, dark figures to slaughter the Cook family. He retrieved the photographs of him and his sister. Aroused, Andy brought himself to sexual climax and scrawled the cryptic message on the mirror with his semen. Seeing the bloody carnage around him, Andy fled. He returned hours later. Filled with guilt and horror over the brutal murder of his family, he put an antique gun to his head and pulled the trigger.
Jim-Bean rubbed his templates. "Ugh. Sorry I did that."
"Spread out, check the other rooms," ordered Hammer.
"You'd better see this," said Fiona, standing in one room's doorway.
John and Helen Cook were murdered in their bedroom. Blankets and sheets were soaked with blood, and more of the dried substance was spattered on walls and the floor like the work of some mad painter. Mirrors and other reflective surfaces were smashed, and seemingly-nonsensical words were scrawled on the walls in dried blood.
Jim-Bean eyed the words. "Xada-Hgla. I've heard that phrase before."
"That's another name for the nuclear chaos known as Azathoth," said Archive.
Hammer bent down to investigate the blood. "There's a small set of tracks here. They look like...tiny footprints."
Thredra came back into the hallway. "If you think that's bad, you should see the kid's room."
The third bedroom was obviously Andrew’s. Posters of musicians and lovely young women adorned the walls, and a weight bench cluttered one comer of the room. A collection of hand-painted toy soldiers stood on the dresser. Three ugly little stone statues sat on the floor in front of a window.
"There are pictures under one corner of the mattress," said Jim-Bean. "They're...not good."
"What kind of not good?" asked Fiona.
"The sexual abuse kind," he replied dourly.
Hammer picked up one of the statues. The carved stone figure was an ugly and deformed version of the typical garden gnome; the little statue had bulging eyes, pointed teeth, and twisted, clawed fingers. The unpleasant teeth and claws of the stone figures were discolored. Something has soaked into the stone, darkening it...
"Uh..." said Jim-Bean. "I think you might want to put that down."
Hammer flipped the gnome over. On its foot was stamped the words: MADE IN GOATSWOOD.
Hammer yelped as the thing bit down on him. He dropped the statue, which took off at a run.
The other two statues bolted into motion. One ran along the wall, another padded effortlessly up the ceiling before disappearing from sight.
"Everybody out!" shouted Hammer.
They started for the door when one of the gnomes unleashed a gout of flames, igniting the hallway.
Thredra spread her fingers and magical darts of energy sliced into the upside-down stone figure, still dangling from the ceiling. It fell abruptly two stories down, the impact punctuated by a loud crack.
"We'll leave out the back," said Fiona. She helped Mrs. Jenkins to the bedroom window.
Hammer fired his Glocks at another shadowy figure running along one of the walls. He made his way down the steps as the flaming wreckage of the house seethed around him.
"Just leave them here!" shouted Archive.
Hammer picked up Andy Cook's unconscious body and dragged him to safety.
"Right," said Jim-Bean. He made his way to the front door and when Archive and Hammer were through, telekinetically tore the roof down on the remaining gnome, who was gesticulating wildly in the center of the room.
"Goatswood gnomes," sighed Thredra, who was waiting outside for them, unscathed and unflapped by the experience. "I hate those things."
Part 3 – Crystallizer Clear, Round One
"Only Andy knows what happened to Alfred," said Mrs. Jenkins, her lips a grim line. Hammer got the impression she would have tortured Andy for the information if she thought it would help.
"Can you pry it out of him?" asked Hammer.
Jim-Bean shook his head. "Nothing but interference. There's something interfering. A loud buzzing is all I get."
Thredra perked up from the back seat of the Phantom, which was getting crowded. "There's one way."
"Yes?" asked Jim-Bean.
"The Crystallizer of Dreams. You'd have to retrieve it of course. But if you can get it, it will open a doorway into Andy's mind. You can then act as a bridge to bring your companions through."
"And you know where this Crystallizer is?" asked Archive.
"I do," said Thredra. "But it's not going to be easy. Ursula Seton has it and she's not going to give it up without a fight."
"Nothing ever is," muttered Jim-Bean. "Let's go."
Number 55, Lodovico Street was is an old, three story, late Victorian house in Temphill, with gaunt trees lining its overgrown garden. Its curtains were drawn; there was newspaper over its top window. Thredra, Fiona, and Mrs. Jenkins moved Andy Cook to a safehouse where
The first floor consisted of a living room, a kitchen, a dining room, and a large den/study in the back of the house. On the mantelpiece of one room, a plaster saint. In the kitchen, evidence of life. Opened tins, bread, bottles of spirits; a glass.
Upstairs was an upper landing with three bedrooms and a bathroom. There was an open door, and through it, a makeshift bed, blankets strewn. An open suitcase, and its contents; more liquor.
As the agents moved up a flight, they approached a room off the top landing, the door of which was also slightly ajar. The light within swung backwards and forwards. In the middle of the floor were several pieces of plastic tubing which were scattered. There was also a strange construct vaguely resembling an atomic model, only infinitely more complex, and a featureless, horned skull with two melted candles perched atop it.
"Daoloth," said Archive. "Whoever left this will be back soon. They're planning to summon him."
"Weren't we IN Daoloth once?" asked Hammer.
Archive nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from the yellow egg shaped artifact, a foot in diameter, that sat in the center of the blood-spattered floor. As they edged closer it became clear just how an elaborate construction it was, made up of sliding panels and mysterious chambers. It is open at present, its polished innards exposed. Out of it came a banal melody, played on a hidden mechanism.
Archive held the egg up. It clicked, and part of it slid open. And to accompany the revelation, there was a twinkling tune.
Archive opened more of the egg. The tune became more complex. Somewhere a bell started to ring. Archive worked the final mechanism of the egg. The light flickers and goes out.
The bell rang. Light poured out of the egg. The light came on again.
"I don't think this is a good idea..." began Hammer.
A very narrow doorway had simply opened in the wall. The corridor was lit brightly in some places, and was absolutely dark in others.
They stepped into the corridor. The walls rose into darkness on either side, their surfaces like the interior of a pyramid, pitted with age, and rotting away. The atmosphere grew denser; smoke thickened the air. Then, a light glowed at the other end of the corridor.
The smoke cleared and the light brightened, and there was a foul smell in the air. Standing across the room, lit by strange phosphorescence that had no visible source, were four extraordinary figures. They were all dressed in red metallic robes and hoods. They each wore an odd red metallic medallion inscribed with a strange geometric glyph. The leader was pale white, his skin devoid of any pigmentation. He was hairless and had strange pink eyes. The other three figures stood with heads bowed, the hoods obscuring their faces. Only the tips of crustacean-like claws protruded from the edges of their sleeves.
The albino gestured. “The Crystallizer... you opened it. We came.”
Hammer cocked his head. "You look familiar..."
"Yes. I am a priest of Yog-Sothoth. You killed me, I believe." He smiled at the incongruency of such a statement.
"Richard. Richard somebody," said Jim-Bean.
“Richard Jacobs. They are the Tomb-Herd. But it matters not who we are, but what you have.” He unwound the medallion from around his neck and it lengthened, growing wicked spikes.
"So I guess you're going to take it back, huh?"
"I already have and I already will," said Jacobs.
Hammer drew his Glocks, but discovered he wasn't there anymore. He was in a maze of corridors like the first one they had entered. Hammer ran for the exit...
Jim-Bean backed up as the whirling chain snapped near his face. Archive fired his own magical Glock at one of the crab-priests, only to discover it was an animated statue that walked like a man. Flakes of stone broke off from the eyestalks as he fired again and again.
Jim-Bean backed up as the whirling chain snapped at his face. He put up a telekinetic ward but Jacobs effortlessly waved it aside, pressing the advantage.
A gun shot dropped Jacobs from behind. He fell forward, Hammer's pistol pointed in the space where Jacobs' head had been.
"I thought you were shifted to somewhere else," said Jim-Bean, who took Hammer's hand to get back up.
"I found my way back," said Hammer.
They turned to Archive. The egg flared brightly and...
Part 4 – Crystallizer Clear, Round Two
A wind blew, carrying autumn leaves before it. And on the wind, the distant pealing of bells. A woman was at the door, turning the key in the lock. Beside her was a man. She opened the door, let a man in, and closed it behind her.
The agents entered through the back door to the house and stepped inside.
They moved through the house, and started to climb the stairs, surrounded by a graveyard hush.
In the top floor of the house, the Pentacle of Planes was assembled. The featureless horned skull rested within the pentagram, holding a pair of lit black candles, and the Crystallizer of Dreams. The man and woman knelt before the pentacle, chanting “Uthgos Yuggoth, Uthgos qond, Daoloth Uthgos fhtgan, Uthgos plan ‘f Daoloth asgu’i-come O Thou who sweepest the veils of sight aside, and showest the realities beyond!”
During the chanting, the woman slammed a metal rod against the floor numerous times and then both ceased chanting. All was quiet for a moment before the agents burst in.
A luminous mist formed around the two people and the weird skull, and then vanished. Seconds later, the candles flared briefly, then guttered and winked out, a black flame replacing them momentarily. Then the room was left in total darkness.
In the darkness, a blood-curdling cacophony: the squeal of unoiled winches the rasp of hooks and razors being sharpened.
The woman spoke. “Now, thou has tasted of our blood. Thou knowest our intentions. The Pentacle of Planes shall hold Thee until Thou shalt do what we desire. Prove my theories! Show us the truth! Wilt Thou show me, and thus release Thyself?”
From the din, music. An unearthly rhythmical sound.
The man yelled for mercy - a mixture of tears and roars of rage. By degrees, his incoherent pleas were drowned out by the surrounding tumult, until without warning, his voice pierced the confusion afresh - this time reduced to a naked scream.
Seconds later the light came on in the room. The man, or whatever was left of him, was gone.
The woman whirled the metal baton at Hammer but it merely clanged off the wall behind him. Jim-Bean was about to say something when the skull flew up and struck him in the face. Stiff as a board, he hit the ground.
Archive whispered a chant, but before he could finish a dimensional crack opened behind him and swallowed him up.
Hammer fired his Glocks twice into the woman's head. The first bullet stopped, hovering in mid-air, but the second made it through and her head bucked. She collapsed, dead.
Hammer checked Jim-Bean's pulse. The mask covered his face. He was dead. Archive was missing, consumed by some extradimensional portal.
That just left him and the egg. He tried to remember the configuration and fiddled with the Crystallizer until it opened, light flaring...
Part 5 – Crystallizer Clear, Round Three
They turned the corner of the street, and started down it. The wind was strong now.
Before Hammer could bash the door in it was suddenly opened. The woman was standing there.
"Can I help you? It's very late."
"Are you Ursula Seton?" asked Hammer.
"Yes. Come in."
Seton let them in. A man was sitting at the end of the table. The light was behind him. His features were shadowy. He was badly bruised.
He leaned forward and into the pool of light over the table. He looked much the worse for wear. His flesh was raw and bruised. There was blood at his neck and hairline.
"It's good that you came. We're finished now," he said. "The ritual won't happen, will it?"
Seton nodded. "Ian killed her in self-defense," she said. "She tried to convince Ian that I was going to kill him." She laughed. "Isn't that absurd? The body's upstairs if you want to look."
The doorway the three agents stepped through slammed behind them. The white man and his three minions were once again standing in the room, more shadow than substance.
"We want the woman who did this," said Jacobs.
Seton backed away into Ian, who opened his arms with a feral smile. "Have you ever danced with the devil by the pale moonlight?"
Everything slowed down. The sound of bells and the thunder filled the air. The lights in the hallway flickered and threatened to go out. Ian opened his jacket, the interior of which was blood-stained, and pulled a knife from the lining.
"You're not leaving now."
With a yelp Seton tore free of Ian's grip and fled up the steps.
Hammer shot Ian several times while Jim-Bean and Archive engaged the other tomb-herd.
"This is getting old," he muttered. "After her!"
They ran up the steps in time to see Seton attempting to start the ritual. Light began to pour through the walls of the room.
Seton suddenly realized the danger she was in. "No..." She started towards the door. But she was too late. The Tomb-Herd were moving through the light towards her. One of the Tomb-Herd already stood in her way.
Behind her, one the Tomb-Herd spoke. "Ursula."
"No!" shouted Ursula.
"You stole something that wasn't yours, Ursula. It's time to give it back."
The pattern of light in the room became more elaborate, and the Tomb-Herd moved through it towards Seton.
Jacobs turned to the agents. "Leave. This isn't for your eyes."
The door slammed as something heavy thuds against the door. They hurried down the stairs, the walls creaking and groaning. It was dark; the air full of groans.
As they started down the next flight of stairs one of the Tomb-Herd was on the half landing. It started up towards them. "No need to leave so soon."
The sound of creaking was very loud. There were falls of plaster dust from the ceiling.
"The Crystallizer!" said Archive. He caught a glimpse of it in the bedroom, where it sat on a chair beside the door, visible in a patch of moonlight.
Archive lunged for the egg while Jim-Bean and Hammer peppered the tomb-herd with bullets. It fell backwards, cracking like flaking masonry.
As Archive fiddled with the egg, the tomb-herd's howl faded, as it was claimed by darkness, its image spiraling away into ether.
Another Tomb-Herd made a sound of rage, and charged up the steps, smashing the wood with each heavy footfall. Archive pressed a button on the egg and it too was sucked away into nothingnesss, its scream fading.
More tomb-herd appeared, but suddenly the roof above it broke open and a fall of dust and filth buried the creature. The roof blew off then; was torn off, and the swirling sky above made it clear that they were not in any known reality.
Conclusion
A creature hung in the space over the house. It looked much like a ghostly, floating jellyfish, bobbing silently and cloudlike above the ground, long, graceful tentacles dangling from beneath a dark and stormy sack-like body. It was featureless except for a pair of yellow, catlike eyes that glowed menacingly.
It moved towards them, its irises narrowing to slits.
"A guardian!" gasped Archive. He kept twisting the egg as fast as he was able. Above it, a vortex opened, sucking everything into it. The guardian lashed its tentacles around the moorings of the house, anchoring itself.
Hammer fired methodically at each tentacle, one after another, loosening its hold with every other shot. Thredra's magical weaponry was the only thing that made it possible to even hit the beast. It lost its grip and flailed wildly, but not before snapping a tentacle around Jim-Bean's torso.
And then it lost its anchor entirely and tumbled helplessly end over end upwards toward the vortex.
Jim-Bean telekinetically grabbed the horned skull and hurled it at the guardian. It plunged deep into its translucent core. He could see the blackened, flaking cancer spread from the skull, infecting the entirety of the guardian. The tentacle that held him in a vice-like grip snapped off and he fell.
Howling its complaint, the guardian was drawn out into the darkness beyond the roof, and disappeared. Its shrieks grew thin, and faded. Finally, silence. The house was still. The roars and creaks from the house ceased. Jim-Bean landed on his feet next to Archive.
"Is the egg still here?" He patted himself. "Are we all still here?"
Hammer and Archive looked at each other. "Think so."
"Good.” Jim-Bean dusted himself off. “Now let's go dumpster diving into Andy's brain."
